A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared; he sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gone as far as it could and it could go no farther.

Then the man decided to help the butterfly, so he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If God allowed us to go through our life without any obstacles, it would cripple us. We would not be as strong as what we could have been.

 ‘you have done a brilliant work Rajesh. You have been given….rrrrhhhhh……Raaaajjjeeeessshhhh………… Raaaajjjeeeessshhhh.’- what!! I woke up from a sudden jerk. ‘Raaajeeessshhh….’…I heard my wife yelling.

What’s wrong with her? Always yelling for something or the other. I can’t be in peace even in my dreams. Shucks!! Angrily, I kicked my blanket and got down. ‘Raaajesssh….’  ‘Coming Meera..what’s wron with you. Why are you shouting like this..’.

 I hurried down the stairs.  I saw Meera, my sweet(??!!) wife, sitting in the couch giving breakfast to my 7yr old daughter  Achala. Both looked happy, watching TV.  I got confused at the whole scenario. I came running down, expecting some kind of earthquake, but instead here everything was in place. I looked at my wife & daughter. She smiled at me back.  Now, I more got confused, what’s happening here? Am I in a dream?

 ‘Meera…’

‘Yeah Rajesh…’

‘You called me. In fact yelled.’

‘Yes. You are right!’

‘Everything is fine here right? Why you screamed like that then…’

‘It’s ‘cos it’s going to be 8am now.’ 

I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. Is she playing some kind of prank? Is this the time for all these? I have to be in office by 9am for a meeting.   

‘Yes. It’s going to be 8am.Right! So…?’

‘Rajesh, don’t tell me, you forgot…today is 27^th ‘

‘27^th..What 27^th?

‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember?’

 Meera gave me an ‘I’ll kill you’ look. Is it her birthday? No it’s somewhere at the year end. Is it my daughter’s? No no , we celebrated last month only right. Got it. Should be our Anniversary.

‘Hey Meera, How will I forget our Anniversary…’

‘Whaattttttt????….Anniversaryyyyy???…..’

 Got it. It’s not our anniversary. Before I get killed…What’s w/ 27^th. What ?? what?? Come on Rajesh!! Think. Nothing hit my mind. I looked at my daughter for a clue. She turned her face away. What’s with all women? Why can’t they be straight forward & say things. With so much work pressure, how on earth I am supposed to remember all the dates?. If I say something, then Meera will pick up a fight, and I will miss the meeting, my whole day will be gone. I made up my mind to surrender.

 ‘Meera, Sorry, I don’t remember. This medicine I am taking for cough, Something happened..my memory is deteriorating ..What’s today?’  Meera doesn’t seem like buying that excuse from me.

’Meera, please tell me’ I asked in a pitiable tone..

‘Rajesh..You don’t remember at all?’  I moved my head left & right meaning NO. I kept my face like I am a patient suffering from ‘amnesia'.

'Rajesh, As part of annual day celebrations, today is 'Daddy's Day' in Acchu's school. I have been telling you for the past 3 weeks. Now don’t tell me you forgot. You already promised that you will go with her to her school'
I couldn’t believe that I accepted for something like that. 'Meeraa..did I??'
'Yes. You did'
‘at what time it starts..?'
'By 8:30am and ends at 1pm'.

Gosh!! 9am!! I have such a critical meeting. How I will attend all these.

“Meera, you could have reminded me yesterday right?’

‘Oh I didn’t remind you? Great. I didn’t call to your office. Or remind you in the evening and before going to bed’

 Might be I wouldn’t have heard it. Or slipped out of my memory. What ever!!

'Meera! Can’t you attend all these. Why should I??'
"Rajesh. It’s Daddy's Day!...DADDY'ss!!!!!'
'Oh yeah....but...'
'But what????...'
'errrh....might be some other day...'
'What? You want the school to postpone the function?'
'No..No…actually..what..I am saying is..'
'What Rajesh??? What?? Tell me. You promised Acchu and are you going to disappoint her? '

I stood there totally helpless. I looked at my daughter. She was all dressed up and ready to go. She looked like, she will cry any time. I saw Meera. She gave me a murderous look. I thought for a moment and my mind raced with many calculations. Important meeting. I can’t miss for sure. Half a day is too much. So many deliverables will get affected. I can’t face Meera again if I don’t go. Might be I can postpone the meeting by an hour and for name sake visit that function and escape to office.

'Meera, I will go, but I can spend only 1 hour..'
'No...that’s not..'

Before Meera finished the sentence, Acchu rushed to me 'Thanks daddy. 1hour. Mom, 1hour is enough mom. Please don’t fight mom. Daddy, get ready soon..' she nudged me.
‘Do you know her school name and the route for the school or you want me to tell???’ Asking that Meera threw me an angry look and left the living room. I rushed up, got ready. Called my manager & told that I got stuck in traffic jam and postponed the meeting to 10am.

 I took Achala to her school. I felt somehow entering the school, ‘cos it’s the 2^nd time, I am entering her school. In fact 1^st time. I once dropped her outside her school gate. The school had a big playground, Small Park with all kids playing equipments. Some stalls were put up. So many kids with their fathers moved around here & there.  Suddenly I felt some one touching my hand

‘Are you achala’s daddy?’ – A small kid asked. She had curly hair and bubbly smile.

 ‘Yes,,,My Daddy..…’ – Achala responded in an excited tone. And some kids ran towards me and Achala started introducing everyone.

 ‘Daddy! this is Rohit, this is zakir, Anis, Sylvia, Divya..’ – I told hello to everyone.

 ‘Daddy, Daddy, Zakir is my best friend.’ – I smiled at that cute blue eyed boy.

 ‘Uncle, Acchu told that you have so much work and you won’t be able to come. She told she won’t come in today. You don’t have work Uncle?’ – Zakir asked me.

 I suddenly felt very bad on how my daughter has understood me. ‘No Zakir, I don’t have work’

 ‘Daddy, they are calling for the games. ‘ . Zakir ran to his father and waved his hands at me & achala. I took achala by hand and walked towards the stage. They were announcing the 1^st game. Fathers will be given a sheet containing questions about their kids.  Fathers have to fill about their kids which will be verified with the kids response.

Achala was all excited about the game and she was all set to go. But I felt shivers. I looked at my daughter. Suddenly, I felt very far from her, and the reality hit me, that I don’t know anything about my very own daughter. I blurted out ‘Acchu..we will attend the next game..This one ..’ She gave me a deep stare. I thought she is going to cry or shout or do something. But instead she pulled out a small paper from her jeans pocket and gave it to me. Completely baffled, I opened the sheet.

My name is Achala. My birthday March 21^st. I am 7yrs old. I like butterfly. Superman. Dairy milk. painting. dancing. I am in  1^st standard A section. I like Dora. Mango. Apple. Fried rice. Jelly. I don’t like banana. I drink  boost.. I like yellow color. My nick name is ‘Honey dew’

And the list went on with small, small spelling mistakes. I looked at Acchu. ‘Daddy, read it, I know they will keep this game. So I wrote it 2 days back itself, to give you if you come. If they ask anything about me, write there. Ok Now go & attend the game’. Most of the things, my daughter has written & gave me, I never knew anything about it. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I went to the stage waved my hand to Acchu and got the question sheet. Since Acchu gave the sheet, I came to know about her & I answered almost all the questions. Then they asked Acchu on stage and asked the questions to her. We got the 2^nd highest mark in that game. Acchu came running towards me and hugged me. They gave a ‘toy guitar’. Everyone congratulated us. Thou’ I won that game, I felt like a loser. I know, I don’t deserve this. I don’t know anything about my daughter.

She looked very happy showing that guitar to her best friend, zakir. What a kid she is. Understanding that her dad is totally hopeless and don’t want to let her dad down, before others she prepared that sheet and gave to me. The lump in my throat started getting bigger and my heart became heavy. I caressed her hair. What a beautiful smile she has and such big eyes. Does she miss a wing to get qualified as an angel? I have never admired my daughter or even watched her in all these years. She has that cute dimple of Meera’s as well as her eyes. Does that curling lip edges when she smiles, is mine? How I missed all this in my life.

 Achala pulled me to the stalls there and I got some eatables and balloons for her and zakir.. She kept talking about the next game and suddenly my mobile rang. Oops!! Is it already 10am. I looked at Acchu . Suddenly her face became dark. She looked totally upset and asked in an low voice ‘Daddy! You have to leave now?’

I looked at my mobile. My manager was calling. It’s already 10am. I looked at Acchu. I looked around. All those happy kids with their fathers. I thought about my school days, where my dad used to come for all sports day, annual day, sit with me, cheer me up. Every day morning, while dropping me to school, he will wait near the gate until my head disappear. Evening, he will come & pick me up in his cycle, and I will be telling him all the stories that happened that day in school.

 I saw Acchu. How many untold stories my daughter has kept in her heart to say me? I thought about all those days, where I yearned for a girl child and I wonder, how much of my time I gave her.

I pulled her closer, gave a kiss on her fore head ‘No Honey! I am not going. I will be here only…we will attend all games and roam around whole day.ok?’

 ‘Really?’ – She asked in an unbelievable tone.

 ‘Yes sweetz’

 ‘Thank you Daddy!’ – Achala kissed my cheeks and ran to her friends. School teaches you something or the other always. This time, ‘back to school’ has taught me a wonderful life’s lesson. I called my manager & told that am running high fever and can’t come in today. I know, I can handle things tomorrow. Today my daughter needs me more than anyone can need me in this world. With a lighter heart, I got up; ran towards Acchu, lifted her and gave her a big swing. She erupted into an uncontrollable laughter.

The lump in my throat started melting away.

Going to church every Sunday ............. ..
Going to Mosque every Friday ............... 
Going to Temple every Saturday .......... ...

 

The following is an article from Subroto Bagchi (Subroto Bagchi is best known for co-founding MindTree in 1999 where he started as the Chief Operating Officer.)

I am beginning to dream..

She is young, beautiful and just two years into her profession as a software engineer at MindTree. Born into a middle-class family of a scientist from Kerala, she has been living by herself in the bustling city of Bangalore. Her world revolved around her work, her family and of course the hope of building a future for herself with her fiancé - a handsome young man from Assam. They had met through friends. He also happens to be in the Information Technology industry, temporarily on a long-term assignment to the United States. Life could not have been more beautiful; full of hope for someone like her who could ask for little else. Then last week, everything changed.

It happened when she was returning from work, riding home on one of the many Volvo buses plying the city. As she was about to step out of the bus when her stop came, the door inadvertently closed in on her due to driver-error and in a moment, her body was pulled under,  the wheels of the bus went over her knees, completely crushing the left leg. In that horrible moment of excruciating pain, she lay screaming under the weight of the bus. People stood around, in shocked inaction. A young woman got down from the bus to see what had happened; she summoned the courage to get people to pull her out from under the bus and then brought her to a hospital for emergency care. The attending doctors realized that the injury was severe and they rushed her to a super-speciality hospital where a series of emergency operations were conducted. Among the many critical procedures, doctors tried to repair the vessels supplying blood to the lower parts of leg so that blood supply could reach the extremities without which there was the danger of gangrene setting in. Unfortunately, the effort did not succeed. The knees had been completely crushed. The devastated parents and a few other relatives came rushing. As she kept her struggle on, a decision had to be taken to amputate the leg without which there could be a serious risk to her life. Time was running out. Finally, everyone consented that the left leg must be amputated above her knees. There was no other way.

The inevitability of that decision will take a lifetime to sink in. Her life has changed forever.

When her fiancé heard about the accident, he rushed back to Bangalore.  She was in critical care, alternating between sets of life-saving equipment in the ICU and the multiple trips to the operation theatre under heavy dosage of cocktail anti-biotic and morphine to numb her entire consciousness.

Yet she knew he had come.

But she also knew that for a long time, she would not be able to say anything.

She would not be able to ask him anything.

Ask what?

                                                         ***

After a couple of days of the accident, I met the young man in my office. With the amputation, the series of plastic surgeries that would follow, the management of pain, the trauma, then the slow process of her rehab and finally getting to use a prosthetic leg to gradually return to the world, it would be one long-haul.  He in the meantime, had come to discuss about the formalities related to her employment insurance; issues like who would pay how much and what all needed to get done so that she could get the best care possible. After meeting with my colleagues, he had dropped by to see me. It was clear from his demeanour that he had come back to take charge.  As I was talking to him, I could not but admire the courage, the character and the commitment. It was her life. It was his too.  If he would have been "practical", probably even she would understand.

As we parted after the meeting, I shook his hand and I looked into his young, resolute and immensely powerful eyes.

"I admire you", I told him.  He knew what I was talking about.

There was a moment of silence. Then he spoke.

"Nothing changes for me" he said with the firmness of a mountain. I watched him leave.

I know it is going to be another long haul for the one still in the hospital as I write my blog but for now, and for her, I am beginning to dream.